


Get ready...to Wiggle!

by Nakeycatstakebaths



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy is the yellow wiggle, Best Friends to Lovers, Children's Hospital Visits, Children's TV Show AU, Children's TV World Tour, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Nickelodeon shows, Wholesome, Wiggles AU, delinquent gang, dora - Freeform, idiots to lovers, kids show, lazytown - Freeform, mild crack lol, wiggles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths
Summary: Children's TV show AU! Wiggles AU!"The Nickelodeon family is going on tour! Three months, forty-five cities, and fifteen stadium shows. Featuring The Wiggles, Stephanie and Sportacus from Lazytown, Dora and Boots and special guest Jojo Siwa!"Clarke and Bellamy have been best friends since their very first day at Nickelodeon studios. They laugh together, dance together, hang out so much that they’ve spurred internet theories about their characters dating on Twitter. But when the stress of a three-month tour and a new charity initiative start to weigh on them, they might just have to address whether they’re best friends—or something more.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59





	Get ready...to Wiggle!

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for myself, this is truly reflective of my current mental state. 
> 
> I love you all I hope you will still love me after this.

“Any particular sweater you’re feeling today?” The production assistant asked, gesturing toward a rack that held an endless row of cable knit neon yellow. 

“I think I’m actually feeling a little red today,” Bellamy joked, taking the offered garment and shrugging it on. 

“That job is kind of taken, buddy,” Jasper yelled from across the dressing room, tugging at his own shirt. 

The production assistant chuckled, signaling that all four of them were ready to take the stage before she disappeared around the corner. 

This was supposed to be a dress rehearsal—practice before performing their tour set in front of a crowd. 

But Thelonious could never resist the opportunity for a cash grab. So he’d marketed it as a special sneak peek of the brand new Nickelodeon live show and charged a pretty penny for backstage tickets. 

According to Murphy, Kylie Jenner and her daughter were in the front row. 

Hearing the music wind down, all four men filed into the wings watching as Clarke closed down her act. 

“All right, my LazyTown loves, I think it’s almost time for us to say goodbye,” she called cheerfully, pink bob bouncing against her shoulders while she flipped across the stage. 

The kids went wild, cheering and yelling as she continued to fly in the air. 

Wells caught Clarke in his arms off her final backhand spring, and they both posed at the front of the stage while a sea of puppets sang around them. 

“I’m Stephanie!” She exclaimed, hopping out of the hold so she could wiggle her fingers at the kids in the front row. 

“and I’m Sportacus!” Wells finished, hugging two of the puppets as they all sang about being healthy and staying active. 

Bellamy was in awe. 

No matter how many times he saw Clarke perform, it would never get old. 

She came to life on stage, smiling and laughing and twirling the kids in circles. 

The music faded out, and the lights dimmed, giving Clarke and Wells time to step offstage before the next performance. 

Bellamy couldn’t help but catch her in a hug, the glitter from her pink costume covering his yellow sweater. 

“You were great out there,” he whispered, giving her a squeeze. 

“Break a leg,” she replied, giving his cheek a soft pat as they turned to watch JoJo Siwa introduce the next act. 

None of them could ever quite manage to follow what she was saying—but they knew her lines well enough by now. 

“And now, four of my favorite guys! Who truly doesn’t need any introduction. The Wiggles,” JoJo screamed, pulling a string to launch two canons of rainbow confetti into the crowd. 

That was their cue. 

With one last look back at Clarke, Bellamy ran out onto the stage. 

“Are you ready to wiggle?!?” Jasper yelled, waving his arms like noodles. 

More excited cheers. 

“Do you hear anything, Johnny? I don’t hear anything!” Bellamy exclaimed, turning to Murphy with furrowed brows. 

“Nope! I don’t hear anything either. Should we try again?” Murphy replied, cupping his hand around his ear. 

“Are you...ready...to wiggle!” Monty asked again, bouncing up and down at an incredible height. 

The resounding screams were bordering on deafening as children squirmed out of their parents' laps and charged directly at the stage. 

This always happened, but the intensity of it never failed to border on frightening. 

It had occurred to Bellamy more than once that a mob of four-year-olds could easily take them down. He hoped that if it ever happened, they would go for Murphy first and give him time to get away. 

“Okay, I’m feeling kind of hungry after all this dancing. Do you think we should make a fruit salad?” Bellamy yelled over the crowd, just in time for the music to switch to their first song. 

The kids immediately calmed, cupping their arms around their bodies to form their own invisible bowls of fruit salad. 

“Fruit salad! Yummy yummy! Fruit salad! Tasty tasty!” He sang, echoed by dozens of tiny voices, all straining to be heard over the crowd. 

His heart melted at that. No matter how crazy things got, this part would never get old. 

They went through their usual routine, the fruit salad song, hot potato song, and a handful of others, all with the thrill of the cheering crowd. 

It wasn’t until he caught sight of Miller in the wings, the blues clues puppet bopping beside him, that Bellamy realized their portion of the show was coming to a close. 

“Give your neighbors a great big hug,” he smiled, patting the backs of two kids hugging his legs. Murphy had a kid wrapped around his back while Jasper and Monty had two each on their hips. 

It took a few production assistants and a little coaxing from JoJo Siwa to get the crowd to settle back down, but eventually, they made it backstage. 

Clarke was waiting in the wings with a bottle of water, an oversized hoodie pulled over her costume. 

“You’re my favorite, Mr. yellow wiggle,” she smiled, wrapping him in a tight hug before stepping back to let him chug the water. 

“Don’t let Monty hear you say that,” Bellamy teased, tugging on the drawstring of her hoodie. 

Sometimes in these moments with Clarke, he felt a glimmer of hope, a pull that maybe there was something more than friendship between them. 

After these shows, it always felt more obvious when they were hopped up on adrenaline and cloaked in identities that weren’t quite their own. 

But the moments were always fleeting, replaced a few seconds later with a slap on the shoulder or something else that kept them securely in the realm of best friends. 

Every single time it happened, it broke Bellamy’s heart. 

But the idea that she didn’t feel the same way was more than he could handle. He would rather keep her in his life than risk losing her over something like that. 

A flurry of words from JoJo Siwa broke them out of their moment, all of which sounded like gibberish to him. 

“What did she just say?” He whispered to Clarke. 

“Hablah blah, blah ha ha blah blah,” She repeated, so straightfaced that it took Bellamy a beat to realize she was fucking around. 

And weirdly, it didn’t feel like their moment was gone. Not when Clarke reached out to wrap her hand around Bellamy’s bicep to keep him from laughing too loudly. 

They were in their own little world, and Bellamy couldn’t be happier about it. 

***

  
“How’d your meeting go?” Bellamy asked, eyes trained on the road as rain pelted the windshield. 

Clarke adjusted the hairline of her wig, the tiny passenger side mirror not helping in her attempt to make sure it was straight. 

“Better than I expected. It’s hard to convince Thelonious to take on something that’ll cost the studio more money, but I think the idea of the good press was pretty appealing to him.” 

Bellamy nodded, looking away long enough to smile at her, and the gesture sent her pulse racing. 

She’d been the most nervous to tell him about all this, because in truth—his opinion mattered to her more than anyone else’s. 

But he was so supportive, helping her with her idea decks, letting her drone on for hours and hours about how everything could go wrong. 

In the end, he’d been right. The meeting with the network went better than Clarke could’ve hoped. 

“Pull your hood up. We’re getting close,” Bellamy instructed, an oversized black coat covering his own costume. 

Unlike her, he was a lot less recognizable with all his gear on. 

She obliged, stomach lurching the way it always did when they pulled into the hospital parking lot. 

In what felt like another life, Clarke had worked here as a nurse. There’d been days when it was her favorite job in the world, but most of the time, the oncology wing just made her heart ache. 

She’d always been looking for ways to make it brighter, to bring life to the sterile halls. It’s how she started with the costumes, dressing up like cartoons and princesses to make the kids smile during their spinal taps and blood draws. 

It had never been about attention or recognition, but the news crews came anyway. From that, she’d gotten the call from Nickelodeon about the Lazytown reboot. 

And the rest was history. 

But she never forgot about the Oncology wing at Ark Children’s. 

This was her program, her baby, the character visits on Friday afternoons. 

She still recognized some of the long term patients, even if they never recognized her back. 

When Bellamy heard, he’d insisted that he tag along. Before long, The Wiggles became a Friday afternoon staple as well. 

Even in the most demanding weeks, bringing this character to life with her best friends was the best thing in Clarke’s world. 

Murphy, Jasper, Monty, Wells, and Miller, who played Steve from Blues Clues, were already waiting in the lobby, all dressed in variations of giant coats and big knit hats. 

The idea she’d dreamed up on her lunch breaks as a nurse, had somehow morphed into a dream come true. Bringing this with them on tour felt like the next logical step, letting kids across the country meet the characters they loved. 

And after today, it seemed like more and more of a possibility. 

“You have quite the crowd waiting for you,” Harper smiled, tucking her hands into the pockets of her scrubs as she approached them in the lobby. 

They followed her through the brightly painted halls, covered in handprints and butterflies. Being here always took Clarke back to long night shifts and stale coffee and hugs from parents that she would never forget. 

Some of the memories were better than others, but being here was always hard on her. 

Bellamy’s fingers brushed hers as they stepped into the break room, a warm comfort that immediately soothed her nerves. 

“Do you guys know the Hot Potato song?” Harper asked Monty, folding his coat and tucking it away with her own. “I have a girl in room 10 that’s been asking about it all day.” 

Monty nodded, pressing a kiss to Harper’s forehead when she beamed. 

They followed Harper to the oncology wing, the boys splitting off to room 10 while Clarke started her usual rounds. 

Ella Westerson, in room 8, had been one of Clarke’s patients since she was a nurse—and Clarke always had a sneaking suspicion that she knew the truth. But Ella never indicated as such, and her three little sisters got a massive kick out of her cartwheels. 

She always made sure to stop here first, while she had the most energy and the most time to sit and talk. 

“Stephanie!” The girls cheered, leaping from their chairs to hug her legs. 

Ella waved brightly from her spot on the bed, unable to join her sisters due to the tubes tethered to her skinny arms. 

“How are my favorite citizens of Lazytown today?!?” She asked cheerfully, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Ella is tired,” one of the younger girls explained, taking her sister's hand. 

Clarke’s heart sank. A kid who’d been in the hospital as long as Ella didn’t throw around the word tired. If she felt too exhausted to dance with Stephanie—she wasn’t doing well. 

Gently, she settled closer to Ella, holding out her hand for the younger girl. 

“You’re a very special friend of mine, Miss. Ella,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb over the little ridges of her knuckles. “And we all feel very tired sometimes. But when we’re feeling tired, our friends help us slow down, right?” 

“Right.” 

“Well, I think I have some friends who are going to help us slow down,” Clarke grinned, just as Wells reappeared in the doorway with Bellamy, Murphy, Jasper, and Monty in tow. 

“It’s the Wiggles!!” One of the sisters screamed, immediately flinging off the bed and wrapping herself around Murphy’s leg. 

Murphy’s usual smirk melted away as he bent to scoop the little girl up, spinning her in a circle while she giggled. 

“You’re my favorite Mr. blue wiggle,” she said, hugging him tightly and burying her face in his blue cable knit sweater. 

They all really came to life around kids. 

Bellamy held an armful of stuffed bears, passing each one out to the Westerson girls. Each had a carefully picked name and a tiny bow wrapped around their ears. 

Finally, he settled on Ella’s bed with an arm draped around her tiny shoulders and gently placed a pink stuffed bear in her arms. 

“You remember my best friend, Mr. Yellow wiggle, right?” Clarke asked, running a finger down the bear’s furry cheek. 

“Of course, I do!” Ella exclaimed, beaming up at Bellamy like he was an old friend. “He has pretty hair.” 

The last part was whispered, like a secret between girls—even though at this proximity, Bellamy certainly heard it. 

He smiled back at her, bopping a finger gently on her upturned nose. 

“I remember you too, Ella! How is your cat? His name is bagel, right?” 

The little girl nodded excitedly, diving into a story about the pictures her mom took of her cat in a Halloween costume. 

Bellamy nodded along, making sure to ask questions when expected. 

He was so good at this, patient and kind. Watching him like this, Clarke wondered whether it would’ve been possible not to fall in love with him—probably not. 

Not when he started singing a song about a kitty cat that she didn’t recognize. 

Bellamy’s hand brushed the ends of her hair as he sang, and she couldn’t help the way her heart swooped at the sight of it all. 

His voice was the exact type of soft rumble that put everyone at ease. Clarke could feel it deep in her chest, the comfort of it all. 

Clarke loved him in all the ways someone could love another person, and she didn’t have the balls to tell him. 

She lived in these tiny moments, the brush of his fingers, the gentle smiles, the way kids looked at him like he was made of magic. 

Ella clutched her bear close to her chest, letting out a sigh of contentment. 

“I’m ready for a nap now,” she sighed, letting her head rest against Clarke’s side. 

Together with Bellamy, they gave her a light squeeze, carefully not to tangle the IVs. 

“Sleep well, little Ella,” she whispered, easing off the bed and following Bellamy out of the room. 

He leaned against the wall as the door clicked shut, running a hand through his hair. 

Their connection with Ella was unique—and seeing her was always a little harder on them both, but today, Bellamy seemed particularly affected. 

Wordlessly, Clarke wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly and hoping that it would help in some way. 

It took him a beat, but he hugged her back, letting his cheek rest on her wig. 

She wished she could whisper that she loved him, that they would see Ella again soon, and maybe she would be stronger. 

But of course, Clarke couldn’t do that. 

So she just rubbed his back and let him breathe through the moment. 

“She’s going to be okay while we’re gone, right?” Bellamy asked, still holding onto the hug. 

And for a moment, Clarke couldn’t think straight. It hadn’t occurred to her that they wouldn’t see the kids in two months, and a lot could change between now and then. 

“We just gotta hope that they’re all going to be alright,” she said, letting herself nuzzle into Bellamy’s sweater even though her glitter would get stuck in the fabric. 

***

  
The biggest perk about working on a children’s TV show was that they didn’t work in an office. 

No office meant no meetings and no conference rooms and no uncomfortably restrictive ties. 

But every once in awhile, Thelonious called them all up to the corporate offices and forced them into a meeting full of information that nobody cared about. 

It was almost strange to see everyone dress like adults. Clarke in a skirt suit, Jasper in a sport coat that was three sizes too large, Monty had managed to wear a hoodie under his suit and have it look normal. 

The only person who seemed at home seated around the table with a giant leather folder in his lap was Wells—and that was to be expected. 

“Now, I’m not here to tell you what to do. You are adults, and you make your own choices,” Jaha droned on, signaling for his assistant to flip to the next slide of a PowerPoint that still had 76 slides left to get through. “With that being said. No drinking within 25 miles of the hotel or any venues we perform at, no hooking up with the parents of our fans even if you make them sign an NDA and no unsanctioned Instagram pictures.” 

There were sounds of protest from Miller and Murphy, but they were ignored. 

“Moving on to social media. No stories on public profiles, no posts that haven’t been cleared by management. This is especially important concerning—a few of you.” 

Wells snorted, covering his mouth with his fist as everyone’s gaze flicked between Bellamy and Clarke, and then again between Jasper and Monty. 

The latter of the two pairings, took it in stride. Closer than brothers, the internet’s obsession with finding romantic subtext between the purple and red wiggles had become a joke among their friends. Jasper and Monty thought it was hilarious. 

But Bellamy and Clarke blushed, shifting uncomfortably as Thelonious clicked through screenshots of the Yellow Wiggle and Stephanie frenzy that somehow gained traction on Twitter. 

This insanity had amassed Clarke 1.2 Million Instagram followers and Bellamy just a little over 800k. But the romantic subtext was something that the network seemed determined to avoid unless they were capitalizing off it to sell JoJo Siwa themed ice cream. 

Bellamy hated social media. He’d long ago given his login information to his media representatives and let them deal with the mess. 

He had a personal Instagram with a handful of followers that Octavia set up for him in college. According to Murphy, he didn’t use it correctly, but he liked his awkward selfies with Clarke and blurry pictures of books he was reading. 

“If anyone asks you guys about it while you’re on tour, you exist in different universes and don’t know each other.” 

Clarke met Bellamy’s gaze from her spot beside him, and she held her water glass up in a mock cheers. Thankfully she looked just as uncomfortable as he felt. 

And with that, they moved on to information about their flight schedule. 

An endless stack of slides later, Thelonious reached the end of his presentation. 

But before anyone could get too excited, he flipped to a new one. 

“To close, I’d like to talk about an initiative that we are very excited about. Spearheaded by our very own, Clarke Griffin.” 

Clarke audibly gasped, eyes lighting up as the words “Children’s Hospital Character Program” flashed across the screen. 

Despite the warning they’d just received, Bellamy grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly as a silent congratulations. 

He was so proud of her. More proud than he probably had the right to be, but he knew how hard she’d worked for this, how much stress went into taking the idea to corporate. 

Bellamy loved Clarke an embarrassing amount, and now more than ever, he wished that she knew the truth. 

***

  
Nickelodeon chartered a private plane to ship them across the country, apparently running the risk of a herd of toddlers recognizing them in the airport outweighed the added costs. 

It wasn’t anything too extravagant, but the seats were plush and left plenty of room for them to spread out in the cabin. 

There was also the added benefit that their insane packet of rules didn’t seem to apply in the privacy of the plane. 

“We never got to celebrate your big win,” Bellamy grinned, shuffling across the aisle to take the empty seat beside Clarke. 

He handed her a mini bottle of champagne, two plastic plane cups, and a birthday cake pop he probably bought from the airport Starbucks. 

The sentiment was painfully sweet, and in truth, Clarke hadn’t slowed down long enough to enjoy her victory. 

Of course, Bellamy remembered, and took the time to do this, even if it was small. 

“You’re the best,” she replied, allowing herself the small indulgence of reaching out to brush a curl off his forehead. 

They clinked their plastic cups together, curled in their own little corner of the plane. 

Clarke always thought she would be okay with being just friends with Bellamy forever—but lately, keeping a healthy amount of distance was getting harder and harder. 

She wanted to lift the armrest and curl into his side, to celebrate her victory, really celebrate with her favorite person. 

But she settled for taking his hand in hers, tracing the veins that pushed against his skin. 

“Are you nervous?” She asked, keeping her eyes on their joined hands. 

“Yeah, a little—it’s kind of nonstop for the next few months and, I don’t really do well with being surrounded all the time,” he shrugged, turning his palm so he could slot their fingers together. 

Clarke’s heart jumped at the gesture. His hand dwarfed hers, made her feel impossibly small and safe. 

“You? an introvert? Never,” she giggled, finally meeting his eyes. 

The smile he gave her was so achingly fond. She briefly forgot her entire train of thought. 

“I mean, if you get sick of Murphy, we can find you a bookstore or something to hide in for a while,” she continued, trying to steady herself before she did something stupid. 

Murphy’s head popped out from behind a seat, effectively breaking the tension. 

“Are you talking about me?” He yelled, scrunching his brow and staring them down. 

“Everything isn’t about you, Murph,” Bellamy called back, chucking the cork from the champagne at his friend’s head. 

Bellamy’s focus shifted toward the other boys, but his hand remained wrapped in Clarke’s. 

And she was glad for the reliable comfort of it, even if words left lingering between them, the ones that had been caught in her throat for almost two years—made her soul ache. 

***

  
The new sweaters they’d ordered for the show didn’t fit—some of them were too tight, others were too loose, Murphy’s had a few holes chewed in the hem. 

And their costumes weren’t the only ones causing issues. 

Wells’ shirt was bordering on pornographic, biceps bulging around the seams, and Clarke’s headband had ended up comically large. 

“Who the fuck ordered these?” Thelonius bellowed, grabbing Wells by the arm and dragging him toward a crowd of producers. 

Murphy took Clarke’s headband, fitting it over her shaggy hair. The contrast with his semi-cropped blue sweater, would’ve looked stylish in certain lighting. 

“I, for one—am a fan,” Monty chuckled, grabbing the headband and using it to push his bangs back. 

They tossed the headband back and forth, taking turns trying it on as Thelonius yelled about the costumes in the background. 

In the end, he sent them home early, giving them time to relax before their show tomorrow afternoon. 

Clarke went back to her room, grateful for the silence but also a little lonely. 

With no other female actor around her age to share with, she was the only one who got a single. 

While it was better than sharing a room with Jojo Siwa, she still felt a little left out as the boys all split into pairs. 

Unlike Bellamy, she didn’t need a lot of alone time. 

She wanted to text him to hang out with her, but they’d already spent most of the day together, and it would make her seem clingy. 

In a lot of ways—Bellamy was her best friend, but she’d never really figured out how to hang out with him when other people were around. 

Sharing isn’t her strong suit. 

Clarke flopped back on the freshly made bed, letting her phone fall to the ground with a thud. 

Without all the walls she’d built up, the element of distance standing in the way, she didn’t know how to manage her feelings. 

She needed to get herself under control. She and Bellamy were just friends. If she made things weird, it would ruin everything. 

Deep breaths. 

That’s all she had to do. 

Bellamy is just a person, a friend. 

But in the middle of her third deep breath, Clarke’s phone buzzed. 

She leaned over the side of the bed, just enough to see notifications from a newly formed group chat. 

_**Jasper Jordan:** “Party in room 761.” _

_**Murphy:** “If Thelonius catches us drinking, we’re fucking dead.” _

_**Monty:** “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” _

_**Bellamy:** “Add Wells. He’s not going to snitch.” _

_Wells Jaha has been added to the conversation._

_**Wells:** “Add Jackson. He feels left out.”_

_Eric (Blues Clues) has been added to the conversation._

_**Jasper Jordan:** “Be there at seven and bring alc if you have any. We invited the girls from next door too.” _

_**Monty: “** They're on, Dora.” _

_**Jasper Jordan:** “Also, it’s room 761.” _

***

Bellamy changed his shirt again. According to Octavia, the blue one was his best look. 

“This is literally pathetic. She already likes you,” Murphy sighed, changing the channel to a rerun of Seinfeld. 

“Fuck off, we’re just friends,” Bellamy said, knowing it was a bald-faced lie, but he didn’t feel like dealing with getting shit for it right now. 

Murphy raised an eyebrow and flipped Bellamy off. 

“You and I are just friends—-you and Clarke are five seconds away from jumping each other.” 

Bellamy’s cheeks burned as he combed his fingers through his hair. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. 

But going there wouldn’t do him any good. 

If Clarke liked him back, he would know. 

And so far—he was almost sure she didn’t. 

Sure it stung, but being realistic about it would be the easiest way to keep himself from getting crushed in the long run. 

“Are you done trying on identical looking shirts? Jasper said 7, and it’s already 7:30,” Murphy asked, turning off the TV and rolling onto his feet. 

“I watched you try on eleven ties before your first date with Emori. You don’t get to give me any shit,” Bellamy replied, giving himself one last one over in the mirror before following Murphy out the door. 

“You gotta ask her on a date before you can freak out about your outfit, dude.” 

Bellamy shoved his friend lightly, signaling for him to shut up as Jasper swung the door open and gestured them into a room that more closely resembled a college party than a small gathering. 

Clarke was tucked in the corner, playing flip cup with Wells and a dark-haired girl Bellamy didn’t recognize. 

He turned toward them just in time to see Clarke lick her middle and pointer fingers before bending to flip a cup in one fluid motion. 

It was painfully hot, and Bellamy completely lost his train of thought. 

She caught his eye over her plastic cup of Monty’s punch, a drop dripping from the corner of her lip as she smiled mid-sip. 

He wanted to reach out and brush it away, to kiss her, and catch it with his lips. 

But instead just took his place across from her, smiling at her before he took his turn at flipping the cup. 

It took him a few tries, but he got there—chugging his drink as they continued down the line. 

He got progressively worse as they went on, until he got stuck on his third cup, letting it fall over and over onto the floor. 

“You’re terrible at this,” Clarke giggled, when he picked his cup up again and set it straight. 

She rounded the table, placing a hand gently on his shoulder as she came to stand beside him. 

“Care to teach me your ways, wise one?” He asked, letting his free arm find its way around her waist. 

“You’re pretty hopeless, but I can try.” 

Clarke winked at him as she hugged him in return and all her instructions went in one ear and out the other. 

“This is the key step. I’m giving you very secret information here,” she whispered, licking both of her fingers. 

His brain started swimming, and almost on reflex, he pulled her a little closer, the sweet smell of liquor on Clarke’s breath as she continued whispering. 

Monty’s punch turned out to be stronger than he expected because all his nerves melted away—the only thing he could think about was the way Clarke was holding him. 

He tried to flip the cup again, but it bounced onto the floor despite Clarke’s help. 

“Mr. Yellow Wiggle, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you’re a lost cause,” she teased, squeezing her arms around his waist. 

He held her close, knowing the alcohol was probably contributing to all this, that it didn’t mean anything but—

Bellamy loved her so much that it hurt sometimes. 

He kissed the top of her head as he let go, running a hand down her back as she gave him one last hug. 

“It’s okay, though. We can still be friends,” Clarke continued, cupping his cheek and giving it a fond pat. 

And then, with her drunk attention span, Clarke’s eyes widened, and she grabbed his hand excitedly. 

“Ohh, wait!! You don’t know, Raven! She’s cool as fuck. You’ll love her.” 

She dragged him over to a couch, where the dark-haired girl from before was heavily flirting with Wells. 

“Hola soy Dora,” the girl said to him, sticking out her hand for a shake before collapsing into giggles. 

Clarke giggled too, grabbing onto Bellamy’s arm to keep herself upright, but the sway caused them both to lose their balance and topple into a nearby armchair. 

Bellamy was trying really hard not to seem creepy, to not be too touchy with Clarke when she was drunk. But he was drunk too, and it felt rude not to return the snuggles at least a little. 

So he let her curl into his lap, played with the ends of her hair when she leaned her head against his chest. 

Overall, a good night. 

***

  
A loud thump startled Clarke awake, and only then did she realize that she wasn’t in a bed or in her room. 

Still fully clothed. 

Although sleeping in jeans was definitely a mistake, as was trying to cram herself into an armchair. 

But Bellamy’s arms held her in place, his chest slowly rising and falling in his sleep. 

He’d held her like this all night. 

Clarke couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke her thumb against his cheek, rough with early morning stubble. 

He really was beautiful, all sharp cheekbones and gentle freckles and thick curly hair. 

At the second stroke of her thumb, his eyes fluttered open, and he met her with a sleepy smile. 

“I feel like death,” he groaned, flexing his fingers into her side as he readjusted her in his lap. 

“I cannot believe we fell asleep in an armchair,” she agreed, letting her hand slip away from his cheek, suddenly self-conscious. 

“We’re better off than Jasper,” Bellamy chuckled, tilting his head toward where Jasper laid on the floor. 

At least that explained the thump. 

“It’s still dark outside,” he said, voice tinged with a hint of sleepiness. 

Clarke reached out, turning Bellamy’s wrist so she could see his watch. 

“It’s 4:30 am,” she groaned, letting her head loll back onto his shoulder. 

“We’re stealing Jasper’s bed,” he announced, scooping Clarke up and walking them both over to the now abandoned bed. 

Clarke’s heart thumped so loudly she couldn’t hear or think. 

She and Bellamy had fallen asleep together plenty of times, on the couch, in her trailer...but never in a bed. 

It felt oddly intimate. 

Either Bellamy was way more into her than she thought, or he's half asleep. The latter seemed far more likely. 

He settled beside her like it was nothing, and suddenly Clarke didn’t know what to do. 

Should she curl up against him? Take his hand? Turn away so he could spoon her? 

Clarke had already let herself get a little too flirty with Bellamy earlier. She didn’t know how much more she could toe the line without him figuring out how she felt. 

But he curled in close, letting his fingers graze her hip as he settled into bed. 

She nudged back, just enough that she could feel the heat of his chest only inches away. 

Bellamy was already asleep, and Clarke allowed herself the indulgence of closing the space. 

As good as it felt, her heart ached. 

This wasn’t real. 

Just a taste of something she wanted so desperately. 

***

  
“Get on your feet, get up, and make it happen!” Murphy cheered, clapping his hands to rile up the crowd of cheering toddlers. 

This was their closing number, some sort of viral dance by JoJo Siwa. They were all in on it, the wiggles, blues clues, Dora, Lazytown, and Jojo's dancers. 

Rainbow cannons of glitter blasted into the crowd while they danced and waved their arms. 

“Are you excited??” Clarke yelled, doing a high kick as she waved to the crowd. 

More cheers, so loud it was almost deafening. 

Bellamy hauled Monty onto his back, spinning around into their final pose. 

They held their formation until the screams wore down, and the cheerful transition music started playing to guide them off the stage. 

“All right, I need the glitter cleaned off of them ASAP. We’re expected at Polis Children’s in twenty minutes,” Thelonius yelled, waving his hand for a team of production to attack them with lint rollers and blow dryers. 

Someone was already yanking Bellamy’s sweater over his head, shoving an oversized grey hoodie into his hands before they walked away. 

Apparently, they didn’t even have time to go back to their dressing rooms. 

“The groutfits are a bit much,” Jasper complained, handing his belt to the nearest assistant. 

“We can’t have kids recognizing you guys.” She shrugged, plopping a hat on Jasper's head before turning to examine Bellamy and Murphy. 

When they’d all been deemed as sufficiently incognito, they were shoved into a town car and sent on their way. 

Everyone overslept this morning, and it’d been a mad dash to eat breakfast and look presentable before their dress rehearsal. 

Bellamy hadn’t had a chance to talk to Clarke. Maybe it was good. He didn’t know what to say. He’d woken up with his arms around her, their legs tangled together, and her face pressed into his chest. 

They’d fallen asleep together before, but never like that, and it made everything even more confusing. 

The hospital they pulled into was three times the size of Arkadia memorial, with massive towers and floor to ceiling glass windows. 

A totally different ballgame. 

Clarke turned in her seat, eyes widening as she looked between him and the hospital. 

“Oh my god,” she mouthed, and he smiled back, grateful that everything was normal between them.

A couple of news crews parked outside, probably to do press about them visiting the hospital. The PR was the only reason they’d been allowed to take on this very expensive add on to their tour in the first place. 

The wardrobe department took over a break room, shoving them into their costumes and filling the entire room with candy scented hairspray. 

“My skin is going to be tinged blue by the end of this,” Niylah sighed, adjusting her monkey ears as someone added another layer of blue face paint around her cheeks. 

“One time, they used my hair dust on my nose by accident, and I looked like I had a cold for two weeks,” Clarke giggled, tying up her giant pink shoes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve learned to double-check since then,” the makeup artist assured, tapping a brush on Nylah’s cheek one last time before moving to apply bronzer on Murphy. 

The cameras clicked, taking shots of them in front of the hospital logo after they finished getting dressed. 

“No mid-costume photos. It ruins the illusion,” a producer scolded, shooing a camera away from Bellamy’s hairstylist. 

He’d shaved in a rush this morning and missed a few patches. In an almost vindictive move, the stylist decided to pluck stray hairs out with a pair of tweezers. 

Eventually, the torture ended, and they were sent on their way to meet kids. 

There was silence to it, a wholesome warmth at seeing kids light up the room, that made the entire day of screaming and prodding well worth it. 

They met a little girl who only wanted to hold Monty’s hand, another one who held onto Niylah’s leg and didn’t let go, a boy who gave Murphy a very gentle pat on the cheek at the end of a song. 

The kids were some of the kindest and gentle children he’d ever met, and it tore Bellamy’s heart in half.

One little boy was too sick to come to the main areas to play, so they made a special visit to his room—just Clarke and the wiggles. 

He showed them all his toys, including a blanket with the wiggles on it, eager to demonstrate that he knew the words to all their songs. 

Bellamy’s throat hurt, and his chest ached by the end of the day, but his heart had never felt more full...and more broken at the same time. 

They each held a handful of drawings and coloring pages, carefully filled in before their arrival, and covered with loving messages from the kids. 

He tucked them all into his backpack, ensuring that nothing got crushed or folded. 

“I thought it might be nice to have them bound into an album or something,” Clarke said, sliding into the seat beside Bellamy.

“They’re too special to lose track of,” he agreed, giving her a smile that he hoped conveyed how much today meant to him. 

Clarke nodded, scooting over to make room for Jasper as they all settled into the car. 

Bellamy draped his arm over the back of the seat, nodding along as Clarke filled him in on what hospitals they would be visiting next, the changes she wanted to make the next time. 

He listened intently, somehow even more in love with the way her eyes lit up as she spoke. 

These visits were Clarke’s passion. That much was for sure. 

***

  
The tour started to melt together in a blur, shows and meet and greets, broken up by hospital visits and press junkets. 

At some point, Clarke was given a day to take over the Nickelodeon Tik Tok account, and JoJo Siwa had to intervene about halfway through because she did such a lousy job. But Bellamy only made it an hour, so she considered hers a win. 

She’d gained almost a million Instagram followers in the past month, and now at 2.3M, her agent was thrilled. 

The only thing that didn’t feel like it was going her way were things with Bellamy. 

If anything, their relationship had become more confusing. 

They fluctuated between being touchy and cuddly and holding each other’s hands to barely interacting in the group setting. 

It was weird, and it didn’t feel like them. 

Two months ago, she’d been able to convince herself easily that they were just friends. 

But with this proximity, seeing each other every second of the day and being crammed side by side constantly, she couldn’t help but hope that maybe there could be something more. 

At times, she was almost certain he felt the same way, but at others, he seemed to retract into himself. 

And Clarke knew this wasn’t just her imagination. 

About a month ago, Raven had very casually asked her how long she and Bellamy had been dating—as if it was a matter of fact. So Clarke wasn’t the only one who could sense a shift in their dynamic. 

Even now, in the middle of a boring meeting about liability, his arm found its way around the back of her chair, hovering only inches above her shoulders. 

“Griffin, Blake, can you hang back for a moment?” Thelonius asked, dismissing the rest of the cast before signaling for them to sit back at the conference table. 

His expression was unreadable as they sat down, and he pushed two thin folders toward them. 

In thin, looped scrawl, it read, “The Tiny Wish Foundation.” 

“I got a call this morning about a little boy. He’s pretty sick—not terminal or anything, but he’s going through a lot. He doesn’t qualify for a ‘Make A Wish,’ so this foundation decided to try and do something smaller for him instead,” Thelonius said. “He wanted LazyTown and The Wiggles, but the hospital has a two guest policy for the hematology ward. So, you both felt like a good fit.” 

Clarke stared down at the photo of the tiny boy, eyes rimmed in dark circles, a yellow sweater hanging loosely around his narrow shoulders. 

His treatment was at a hospital that isn’t on their list, but the letter the organization had attached to the photo was so heartwarming that, of course, even Thelonius couldn’t say no. 

“Andrew has a poster of Stephanie hanging up in his room,” the letter read, continuing to describe the little crush that this boy had on Clarke before talking about how he loved the watch The Wiggles every day before his treatment. “The yellow wiggle is his favorite, and he asked for this sweater for his birthday so they could be matching.” 

Clarke could feel her eyes clouding, and she closed the folder, looking back up at her boss. 

Bellamy was still staring at the letter, and the photo, lip caught between his teeth as he read. 

She reached under the table, subtly enough that she didn’t think Thelonious noticed, and took his hand, pulling it into her lap. 

He squeezed hers in return, keeping his gaze down for a beat longer before looking up as well. 

“I think this would be an honor,” Bellamy said, clearing his throat before he spoke. 

“Absolutely,” Clarke agreed, flashing a genuine smile. “Thank you for allowing this program to take on a life of its own. I never imagined being asked something like this.” 

“It’s been a pleasure to see the impact you all have made. I hope these visits can become a staple for Nickelodeon programming.” 

A wave of emotion crashed over Clarke, so staggering that she almost burst into tears in a boardroom in front of her boss. All those nights in the break room at Arkadia children’s, scrounging up money for fabric, sewing her own costumes, and teaching dances to the other nurses. She never could’ve dreamed they’d reach this point, that she could bring a moment of comfort to a kid from halfway across the country. 

It was more than she could’ve ever dreamed of. 

And getting to do it with Bellamy by her side, made it even better. 

“You did this Clarke, it’s all your vision,” Bellamy whispered as Thelonius gathered his things to leave. “I’m so proud of you.” 

The second the door clicked shut, she flew into his arms, almost knocking him out of his chair in the process. 

She was overwhelmed and overjoyed and heartbroken all at once, but she was proud of herself, and Bellamy was proud of her too, and that’s all that mattered. 

***

  
A woman from The Tiny Wish foundation met them in the hospital's lobby, greeting Bellamy and Clarke with a warm hug before she explained exactly what they were going to do. 

This wasn’t just a simple hospital visit. She’d planned an entire day for them. 

“His favorite restaurant is Red Robin, and they’ve very graciously agreed to deliver lunch for you all. So you’ll eat together, spend the afternoon in the room we’ve arranged, and hopefully have a fantastic day,” the woman explained, leading them to the car. “And as a final surprise, you’ll give him the commemorative dolls that Nickelodeon has provided.” 

Bellamy quirked an eyebrow, nobody had told them they were launching commemorative dolls, but it felt like a very on-brand announcement. 

“Sounds wonderful. We’re very excited to meet Andrew today,” Clarke chirped as they followed the woman down a series of winding halls. 

“Now he’s not expecting you. He just thinks we’re having a special lunch delivered,” the woman said with another smile, counting down from three before swinging the door open with a cheerful hello. 

“Yay! Is it Red Rob—“ the little boy asked from his bed, stopping mid-sentence when he realized that Bellamy and Clarke were following behind. 

He gasped, tiny face crumpling with tears as he tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. 

“Hello, sweet Andrew, we heard that you were a very special boy, and we just had to come and meet you today,” Bellamy said, stepping forward to open his arms for a hug. 

“You’re—you’re—“ he stammered, smiling through his tears as he reached out to touch Bellamy’s face, grab his sweater, and finally, hugged him so tightly that his body shook from the exertion. “You’re here for me?” 

“Of course we’re here for you,” Bellamy assured, hugging Andrew back. 

Andrew rubbed Bellamy’s cheek again, eyes finally moving toward Clarke. And suddenly, he seemed nervous, shyly burying his face into Bellamy’s sweater. 

Clarke knelt beside them, running a hand down his back. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, Andrew. I love your curly hair,” she said softly, not wanting to push him too hard but hoping the compliment would help him warm up. 

Andrew peeked out from his spot against Bellamy’s shoulder, smiling softly. 

“Hi Stephanie,” he said shyly, holding out his hand for a handshake. “I like your hair too.” 

In a matter of minutes, Andrew became more confident and his tears of surprise dried. By the time the food arrived, he’d started chatting excitedly about all his favorite things and asked them a million questions about themselves. 

“What’s your favorite flavor of sucker, Stephanie?” He asked, dipping a French fry in a small cup of ketchup. 

“Hmm...I like strawberry because they're pink! What about you?” 

“I think my favorite is cherry—no, blue raspberry! Cause it makes your lips blue!” He replied around his bite, too excited to wait until he was finished chewing. “What about yours Yellow Wiggle?” 

“Banana, of course!” Bellamy exclaimed, poking Andrew with a fry. 

This back and forth of questions continued for almost an hour, long past when their burgers were gone, and their fries had wilted. 

“Should we go on an adventure?” Clarke asked, just as a volunteer appeared with a wagon that was decorated to look like The Wiggles car. 

Andrew squeaked with glee, pulling on his yellow sweater and reached out for Clarke to help him into the wagon. 

The weightlessness of his thin frame caught her off guard. Even among other sick kids, Andrew was the smallest six year old she’d ever met. 

She’d been trying not to think too much about it. This wasn’t about drawing attention to his illness. It was about making today as memorable as possible. And for the most part, it’d been easy to do. 

But the way he held her, trusted her to carry him safely to the wagon, the weight of what they were doing really set in. 

Bellamy helped him settle into his seat, draping a blanket across his lap. 

And together they pulled the wagon down the halls, quietly, Bellamy sang the wiggles song about riding in the car and waving to the people around them. 

Andrew took it in stride, waving to the kids they passed by, telling them his hellos and good afternoons. 

He really was a sweet, bright, and wonderful kid. Clarke already loved him more than what would be considered professionally appropriate. 

This had always been her issue when she was a nurse. She loved too much, too hard, cared more than she was supposed to. It always led to a broken heart. But in this job, it was a strength. She got to come into this hospital and make a kid smile, to let him treat his favorite character like a friend. 

Being here felt like somewhere she was always supposed to be, and Andrew felt like someone she was always supposed to meet. 

***

  
Clarke opened her door to find Bellamy on the other side with sock-clad feet, rumpled hair, and a bag in his left hand. 

“I brought donuts,” he said, holding up the greasy bag from the diner across the street half-heartedly. 

She knew why he was here. It was the same reason that she’d been tossing and turning for the past hour. 

“I wish there was more we could do,” he sighed, removing the donuts from the bag while Clarke moved to make an extra cup of tea for him. 

She hummed in agreement, watching the steaming water pour into each of their cups. 

Her mind had been racing for the past three days, with thoughts of Andrew and Ella and her job and Bellamy. Too many things to consider, not enough time. Between the lack of sleep, the constant traveling, all the singing, and dancing, she was starting to lose her marbles. 

“I love them all so much, maybe too much,” she agreed, sitting beside him on the bed. 

There wasn’t anything sexual or romantic about this moment, just a moment of comfort between two friends. 

“That’s one of the best things about you though, you’re always taking care of people,” Bellamy said, leaning back against the headboard so he could look at her. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.” 

She closed her eyes as his hand brushed her cheek gently, so light that it was like it never happened. 

“I’ve got you for that,” she smiled, and it was wholeheartedly the truth. 

Bellamy smiled at her, taking her hand when she reached to tangle their fingers. 

The friendliness of the moment slipped into something heavier, Clarke’s words sitting between them like a lead brick. 

She wanted to push it further, to finally get her feelings off her chest but—

The idea of losing this, of him gently letting her down to spare her feelings, reared its ugly head. 

It really felt like there might be something here, that he would feel the same way, but there was no way to be sure. 

“Well, I’ve got you for that too,” he replied, and the way he squeezed her hand sent a wave of heat rolling through her body. 

They really were best friends, there for each other no matter what. They’d seen so much heartbreaking reality together and come out of it stronger, with nothing but love for the kids they met. 

Clarke wanted Bellamy by her side for every moment for the rest of her life, his hand in hers, his smile across the table. 

She’d never loved someone like this before, and maybe that made it worth the risk. 

“Bellamy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I think we should go out to dinner tomorrow,” she said, more of a declaration than a question, voice strained from trying to keep it from shaking. 

Her words didn’t flow as smoothly as they had in her head, but hopefully, he got the point of what she was trying to say. 

“What?” 

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. 

Bellamy looked confused, like he couldn’t quite make sense of her words. 

“We should go out to dinner...” she continued, willing herself not to lose her nerve. “Like a date.” 

Their hands were still clasped together, thumbs stacked on top of each other. 

At least he didn’t pull away. 

That’s a good sign, right? 

But he also hadn’t said anything yet. 

“I—uh—I think that would be great. I would really like that,” Bellamy finally replied, giving her an unsure smile. 

And well, it felt the start of something. 

***

  
Thelonius’ brutal travel schedule left little room for free time and tomorrow turned into a week before they had time to gather their bearings. 

But on a Tuesday, in Indianapolis, Indiana, they finally had a free night for a date. 

“Sit down, I’m calling Monty,” Murphy said, pushing Bellamy until he sat heavily in a nearby chair. 

Their room was a mess of discarded shirts and untied shoes and crumpled jeans. 

“I can’t handle helping you pick out an outfit and your mental breakdown by myself,” Murphy explained, opening the door for Monty.

“Miller and Wells donated a few shirts to the cause,” Monty explained cheerfully, holding up a stack of clothes. 

Bellamy looked through the clothes Monty dropped on the bed, some of which were—completely ridiculous. 

“What even is this?” He asked, holding up a long white tunic. 

“Wells is really into yoga right now,” Monty shrugged, pulling out a red Henley and tossing it at Bellamy. 

It looked good, better than anything else he’d tried on, and it wasn’t too formal. 

“I’ve had shirts thrown at my head for the past hour, and you come in here, and he likes the first one? Typical,” Murphy groaned, throwing a pair of dark jeans at them both. 

“Should I buy flowers or something?” Bellamy asked as he stepped into jeans, suddenly nervous without his clothes as a distraction. 

He’d been daydreaming about going on a date with Clarke for years now, but suddenly it was a reality, and the pressure was getting to him. 

“I think you should be chill, don’t go nuts. You and Clarke know each other so well. This is just a next step,” Monty said gently, leaning back against the doorframe. 

“Easier said than done,” Bellamy sighed, trying to make his hair look more presentable in the mirror. 

***

  
“Did you know that hotels still have concierge services?” Bellamy grinned, holding out his elbow for Clarke to take as they stepped out of the Uber into the cold fall air. 

“I did not,” she giggled, lacing their arms together, letting herself enjoy that they could finally stand close to each other without reason. 

“Well, she said this was the most highly recommended restaurant, and we just have to go,” he explained, leading her toward an Italian restaurant with a spanning outdoor patio and overhead string lights. 

The hostess had been expecting them, and led them to a table tucked in a private corner, away from the noise and bustle.

Clarke felt a lump forming in her throat, her nerves traveling through her entire body as they sat across from each other, and Bellamy reached out to take her hand once more. 

This was real. 

A real date. 

And Bellamy went out of his way to not only to find a perfect restaurant but also Google the menu for things they would like. 

“I think eggplant parmigiana is supposed to be super good. I remember seeing something on Yelp about it—“ he said, trailing off when he looked up at her. 

“What?” Bellamy asked, lips quirked up in a smile. 

Clarke rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand, smiling back at him, overwhelmed that this moment was rooted in reality and not a daydream. 

“I’m really glad we did this,” she said, squeezing his palm in hers, trying to funnel all the love building in her chest into the gesture. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a really long time,” he said, catching her completely off guard. 

Did he want this as badly as she did? 

Had he always wanted her as much as she wanted him?

Did he...did he love her too? 

But before she could ask, the waitress stopped by with their bottle of wine. Derailing their conversation entirely when she started recommending appetizers. 

They didn’t get back on the topic during their dinner, spending their time joking about the tour, people watching, and talking about their families. But the words, ‘a long time’ echoed over and over in Clarke’s brain. 

She’d never been on a date like this before, felt so perfectly at ease and comfortable. 

In short, it was perfect. 

Bellamy held her hand throughout, keeping them looped together after they ate, as they left the restaurant and climbed into the cab. 

“Why did you decide to ask me out?” He asked, pulling their joint hands into his lap as they sped down the highway. 

Clarke chewed her lip, trying to gather her thoughts, to form something resembling an explanation. And the words struck her again, a long time. 

“I waited a long time for this too. But spending time with these kids, with you—I’ve realized, life is short. There’s a lot of ugliness out there, but with you, it all seems a little more manageable,” she began, knowing that she was about to put her entire heart on the line. “Everything's better when you’re around, Bellamy. You’re my favorite person to be with, and I didn’t want to be afraid about the way I felt about you anymore.” 

Saying it out loud was a relief. 

Even if he didn’t feel the same way, at least he knew the truth. 

When Clarke looked up, she realized there were tears in Bellamy’s eyes. 

And he smiled at her, a full-faced, dimpled smile, and Clarke’s heart squeezed even more tightly. 

Before he could reply, her eyes filled with tears too. 

It didn’t make any sense, why she was so emotional, why it felt like she’d gotten an answer without them having to speak. But it felt like a moment more immense than anything she could’ve imagined. 

The cab drew to a stop, and they both sniffled, gathering their things and thanking the driver as they climbed back out into the street. 

Without the sun, the air grew cold, and Clarke shivered as Bellamy slipped his sweater around her shoulders. Of course, it happened to be yellow. Not a Wiggles yellow, something more mustardy, more adult, the kind of sweater the yellow wiggle would wear if he went to college. 

It couldn’t have been more fitting. 

But they still hadn’t spoken a word since Clarke’s confession, and she was starting to get nervous. 

Adjusting the sweater, he slid his hands down her arms, nudging her gently into his space. 

“I don’t want to be afraid about how I feel about you either,” Bellamy said carefully, tucking a curl behind her ear. “But I’ve been in love with you for longer than I could possibly keep track of.” 

It took her a beat to absorb what he said, to understand the gravity of those three words. 

I love you. 

And she was wrong before—this moment was even better than the tear-filled smiles in the car. 

Bellamy loved her back. 

He was still talking, saying beautiful, wonderful things, but Clarke cut him off mid-sentence, kissing him soundly on the lips. 

Bellamy lifted her off the ground, holding her tightly, cradling her as their lips moved together. A soft press turned urgent, years of built-up feelings spilling out all at once. 

“I love you,” she murmured, pulling back and then surging forward to kiss him again. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, voice muffled by the force of their kiss. 

They stayed like that until the tip of Clarke’s fingers felt numb, on the edge of the Indianapolis canal walk, their hotel towering above them. 

“Oh my God, is that Stephanie and the yellow wiggle?!?” Someone yelled, giving them only a few seconds of warning before three middle school aged girls came running up to them. 

“Oh my God, they’re making out!” A different one yelled as they neared closer. 

This was absolutely the worst possible scenario. 

These kids were too old to be excited fans. They were probably the types to jump on Twitter and immediately tell everyone that the yellow wiggle and Stephanie from Lazytown were hooking up in public. 

“Shit,” Bellamy groaned quietly, and not in a sexy way, before turning to the girls with his eyebrows knit together. 

But Clarke wasn’t about to let the best moment of her life turn into a reason for her agent to scream at her or become a discussion in a boardroom with Thelonius. 

So she reached out to push Bellamy’s bangs back. 

“Babe, they think you look like one of The Wiggles,” she giggled, faking a slight southern twang to throw the kids off. “He gets that a lot, but sadly, he’s not that cool.” 

The girls stopped in their tracks, clearly not expecting to have been wrong as they looked back and forth at one another. 

Slowly, the instigating girl lowered her phone back into her pocket. 

“Yeah, sorry guys, I’m a fourth-grade teacher,” Bellamy shrugged. “But if you took a video of us, I’d like to ask you to please delete it. That’s a huge invasion of privacy.” 

He was using his regular voice, but the gentle Wiggles intonation was still mixed into it. 

The girl took her phone back out and showed him that there wasn’t a video. 

“We’re uh—really sorry. We totally thought you were them,” she said, nudging her friends until they nodded in agreement. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Clarke smiled, waving as the girls raced off, probably not wanting to linger in the awkwardness any longer. 

Once the girls disappeared on their Lime scooters, Bellamy started to laugh, and Clarke laughed too. It felt unmistakably them, to have to fend of middle school girls in the middle of a romantic confession. 

But interruption or not, Bellamy loved her, and she loved him, and they were going to get to be together. 

And Clarke had Stephanie from Lazytown and The Yellow Wiggle to thank for that. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel compelled, please check out The Little Wish Foundation, Children's Miracle Network, or St. Jude's Children's Hospital if you want to learn more or donate toward the fight against childhood cancer!! 
> 
> I hope you liked this admittedly crazy idea. I know I've done a few weird ones but--Bellamy is a Wiggle is pretty high up there. I love you guys SO much. Thank you for reading if you got this far, I appreciate each and every one of you so incredibly much. Sending you hugs and love and lots of smiles, you are all the best. I've been so stressed lately and writing has been such a happy place, hearing from you all is a wonderful added bonus. Some of you have left words that have genuinely brought me to tears lately, I just love you all wow. 
> 
> Please let me know if you like this little guy and if you want to see more crazy one-offs like this. Your thoughts are always so loved and appreciated! Stay safe, take care of yourselves, and have a wonderful, blessed week! 
> 
> If you want to be friends you can also find me on Tumblr at Nakey-cats-take-bathsss I would love to chat with you!


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